


Running's Good for Your Health

by CrazyCranberry



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Happy Beginning, Happy Ending, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny Steve, Steve is so stubborn, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Vague Location, happy everything i guess, i just needed something to break my writers block, suburbia basically, they're both dorks, this is so random, vague college, wrote this for an AU prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyCranberry/pseuds/CrazyCranberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the AU prompt: "running is supposed to be good for your health except I seem to have sprained my ankle and I took you out with me I’m so sorry." </p>
<p>Steve decides to go for a run. Bucky is an unsuspecting stranger caught in the midst of Steve's bad decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running's Good for Your Health

Steve knew he’d made a mistake as soon as he’d laced up his sneakers– a ratty pair of converse that offered absolutely _no_ arch support, but he wasn’t spending his paycheck on running shoes. He’d had his eye on a set of acrylics for _months_ and he’d be damned if he caved to make this run a little more comfortable. “It’s just four blocks. A square. You can run in a goddamned square, Rogers,” he mumbled to himself, gripping the edge of the coffee table and pulling himself to his feet. Both knees cracked at the action, heinously loud in the quiet house. He’d decided to do this on a whim– a desperate, fury fueled, _stupid_ whim. He only had an hour and a half until his mom got home from work, which meant he had to run, shower, and get any asthma attacks under control _within_ that hour and a half. If Steve’s mom found out what he’d done, she’d be sure to either kill him (if he didn’t die), or lecture him into oblivion.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair, blonde strands snagging between his fingers, before walking to the door. He made sure to grab his keys, dropping them into the right pocket of his oversized basketball shorts, before stuffing his inhaler into the left. He took a deep breath, pausing to straighten out his t-shirt, before swinging open the door. He was immediately hit with a wave of ungodly heat and humidity, and almost gagged. “This is _fine_. It’s going to be fine,” Steve said, dragging his feet as he made his way down the front walkway to the sidewalk. “Besides, running’s good for your health.” As if on cue, his breath hitched, getting caught somewhere in his lungs before flowing out in a rush. _“Not my health, but generally speaking,”_ Steve thought, hastily amending his previous statement.

Mouth twisting up into a grimace, Steve began to stretch, hoping to lessen the eventual agony. He reached for his toes, falling short by a good two inches, then extended his arms up over his head. He leaned to the right then over to the left, pointedly ignoring the way his hip bones seemed to pinch at the muscle overlapping them; the way his back began to twinge. “Fours blocks,” Steve murmured, shaking out his legs, and then taking off into a dead sprint. Almost immediately, his body began to scream out in protest, and Steve could practically _hear_ his bones yelling, _“what the fuck are you doing, stop, oh god, no, ABORT MISSION.”_ He pushed on, though, breathing getting progressively more labored with each wobbly step. He seriously hoped none of his neighbor's happened to look outside as his lanky form all but galloped by in a twist of uncoordinated limbs.

Steve made it to the end of the first block in good time, and turned down the second block without pause. His lungs felt like they were seizing up, and he could feel sweat blooming out across his forehead and dripping down back as the sun beat down mercilessly upon him. It was at _least_ ninety-five degrees outside, but Steve had decided to do this run _today_ , and he’d be damned if he let anything stop him once the idea had ingrained itself into his thick skull. He’d also be damned if he collapsed due to heat stroke, but that was another worry _entirely_.

His pace began to falter when he rounded the corner and started on the third block– his legs were beginning to shake and his air supply was almost non-existent. There was also a man about halfway down the block, walking in the same direction Steve was running. His broad shoulders filled out the white t-shirt he was wearing,  _deliciously_ , and his basketball shorts (admittedly _much_ better fitting than Steve’s own) hung low on his hips. Shoulder length brown hair was pulled into a low bun, and a bag was slung over one shoulder, accentuating the bicep of the curled arm. He must’ve been at least a head taller than Steve. Steve gulped, mouth suddenly gone Sahara dry, and briefly debated on whether or not he should turn around, or risk passing the guy in all of his sweat soaked, wheezing glory. As always, Steve’s stubbornness won out, jaw locking in determination.

_“Just run right around him, no eye contact, play it cool,”_ Steve thought, closing the distance between them with every step. The closer he got, the faster his heart began to beat, an extra strain on his already taxed cardiovascular system. When he was about a foot behind the guy, whose back was a goddamn piece of _art_ , Steve made a move to run up onto the grass beside him, and then cut back over onto the sidewalk.

He knew the exact moment when everything went to shit.

Steve’s ankle gave out with one sharp burst of pain, jarring him forward and into the back he had just been ogling. The man tipped forward, arms splayed out to catch his balance, but Steve was already tipping to the side, his own arms flailing, hands instinctively reaching out to grab onto something. That something happened to be the man’s shirt, which then sent _him_ careening wildly to the right, all hopes of regaining his balance, lost. They both hit the ground with a solid thud, Steve’s left arm tangled through the man’s right, and Steve’s right leg nearly completely thrown over the man’s hip.

Once the shock had worn off, Steve groaned, untangling himself from the stranger. The man slowly pulled himself into a sitting position, turning to face Steve. _“Mother of god, he’s gorgeous,”_ was the first thought to pop into Steve’s head. A pair of slate grey eyes with the _barest_ hint of blue stared down at him from where they were nestled into a perfectly sculpted face, with high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. The faintest amount of stubble graced that jaw, teasing at a pair of heavenly plump lips, and if Steve had any breath left he’s pretty sure that this man would’ve stolen it. “I’m so sorry,” Steve blurted out, though it came out more hoarse than he would’ve liked it to. When the stranger just continued to stare, Steve started to ramble. “I didn’t mean to run _into_ you, I meant to run _around_ you, but I sprained my ankle and I took you out with me, and I’m just really sorry for clinging onto your shirt–”

The man, as if coming out of a daze, suddenly began to shake his head, an amused smile pulling at his lips. “No, _hey_ , it’s totally fine, no need to apologize, it happens,” he said, laughing lightly as he brushed himself off and then stood. Steve moved to follow, but his ankle had apparently turned into jelly, and ached fiercely at the slightest amount of pressure. He went to mumble something wildly inappropriate under his breath, when his throat began to close up, lungs all but rattling in his chest. “ _Woa_ , hey, are you alright?” the man asked, instantly crouching back down when Steve’s face began to go red, eyes wide in panic. Steve could only nod, trying to relieve the stranger’s worry with a nonchalant wave of his hand. He then fumbled for his inhaler, quickly putting it up to his lips, and taking in a stunted lungful of medication. He repeated this one more time before his airway began to clear and it didn’t feel like he was breathing through a fucking _straw_. “You good?” the man asked, one eyebrow quirked, lines of concern etched into his forehead.

“Yeah,” Steve wheezed, pocketing his inhaler and again attempting to stand.

“Here, let me help,” the man offered, and before Steve could protest, wrapped one solid arm around Steve’s waist and hefted him to his feet.

“I could’ve gotten up on my own,” Steve muttered, thought there was no real heat behind his words, because, _“this hot guy is almost hugging me right now, holy shit”._ The stranger only smiled, wider this time, but didn’t remove his arm from around Steve’s waist. A few seconds ticked by, and Steve looked pointedly down at the man’s arm, then back up at his face, trying to relay his confusion about _why they were still touching_. The stranger honest to god _blushed_ , clearing his throat in what Steve could only decipher as embarrassment, before hastily retracting his arm back to his side. Which, truth be told, was not the _best_ move to make, because the motion startled Steve into stumbling forward, landing heavily onto his injured ankle. “Mother _fucker_ , shit, _ow_ ,” Steve cursed, blindly reaching out and gripping onto the man’s wrist to keep himself upright.

“I could help you home, or, I mean, wherever you were headed, if that’s okay,” the man said, half in genuine concern for Steve’s well being, and half in genuine amusement at Steve’s array of curses. Steve briefly considered turning him down, because he was a stranger that was at least twice, if not three times, Steve’s size. But, he did seem like a nice enough guy and he looked like a descendent of a greek god…

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Steve said, letting the man once again wrap an arm around his waist. They started an awkward shuffle-hop-walk forward, the man having to lean down a bit to accommodate Steve’s height. “I live right around the corner, so it’s not a long walk or anything.”

“Really?” he said, and, if Steve wasn’t mistaken, was that  _excitement_ in his voice? “I live about three blocks from here, in that new apartment complex. I go to the university a few miles away,” he said, and Steve viciously fought the urge to do a happy dance. “I’m Bucky, by the way.” University made sense– the stranger, _Bucky_ , looked a year or two older than himself.

“I’m Steve,” Steve replied, “and you’re going to Mason? I’ll be starting there in the fall.”

“No way, I’ll be going into my sophomore year,” Bucky said, chuckling in disbelief as they rounded the corner and began their slow walk up the fourth block. So much for Steve’s run, but he wasn’t _too_ disappointed with this outcome.

“What’re you going for?”

“Art history and education,” Steve answered. “You?”

“Cool, so you want to be an art teacher? And I’m still undecided. I’m trying out a little bit of everything,” Bucky said, and Steve nodded in understanding.

“That’d be the dream,” Steve answered, before stating, “this is me,” and pointing up to his house once they neared his driveway. A white, two story home, with faded yellow shutters.

“Nice place,” Bucky said, helping Steve up to the front entrance.

“Thanks,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips as he dug his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Do you want a water bottle or anything before you go?”

“That’d be awesome,” Bucky said, helping Steve across the doorway and into the living room. Steve was eternally grateful that he’d decided to clean up yesterday after school.

“Wait right here,” Steve said, regretfully pulling out of Bucky’s hold and limping into the kitchen. He pulled two bottles from the fridge, and hobbled back into the room. Bucky was fiddling the straps of his bag, eyes roaming around the room, but immediately snapping to Steve when he entered. “Here ya’ go,” Steve said, handing Bucky the bottle. Their fingers brushed and both men blushed, Steve’s hand going to the back of his neck in a nervous habit. “Um, _yeah_ , so, thanks for helping me and again, I’m really sorry for kinda, almost tackling you,” Steve laughed, gnawing on his lower lip. Bucky’s eyes tracked the movement before he snapped himself out of it.

“No problem _whatsoever_ , and thanks for the water. And, I was wondering, you know, if you wanted, maybe we could go out for lunch this weekend?” he said, jokingly tacking on, “solely as recompense for the tackling, _of course_.”

“What kind of person would I be if I said ‘no’?” Steve exclaimed, feeling some of his usual sarcasm and wit finally peeking through the layer of nerves.

“A heartless one. I mean, I was just minding my own business and then you go and _completely_ push me off course and added, let me see, _fifteen_ minutes to my normal commute home. I’m missing Shark Tank, Steve. _Shark Tank_ ,” Bucky said, crossing his arms and pulling the most deviously handsome smile Steve had ever seen.

“Shark Tank? I’m a _monster_. If lunch is the only way to prove I still have a heart, I’ll just have to go. My actions were inexcusable,” Steve chuckled, throwing up his hands in a faux placating manner.

“I’m glad we could resolve this peacefully. You just need to put your number in here,” Bucky said, handing Steve his phone, “and we’ll be set.”

“Alright,” Steve said, punching in his number and then handing the phone back to Bucky. “It was nice to meet you, Bucky. You know, besides the falling, and the tangling, and the pain.”

“Right back at you, Steve. Does Saturday work?”

“Saturdays works fine,” Steve replied.

“Great, see you then,” Bucky said, before winking, spinning on his heel and disappearing back through the doorway. Blushing yet again, Steve plopped down onto the couch and opened the bottle of water, proceeding to take a big gulp.

_“I should go running more often,”_ Steve thought, lounging on the couch for a few minutes more, before all but catapulting upstairs to get his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this piece as a way to try and get out of this serious bout of writers block I've been having. It kinda worked– fluff is always nice to write. I'm looking into doing a series of one-shot AU's, mostly with Steve and Bucky, so this might be the first of many. Comments and feedback are always appreciated! Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
>  
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr at: http://awesomeandromedablack.tumblr.com/


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